


a small courageous thing

by torchsong (riverballad)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Love Confessions, also yes thats a damn near PERFECT movie, anyway sue me i love some misunderstandings, yes the first line is from 'when harry met sally'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverballad/pseuds/torchsong
Summary: “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and, the thing is, I’m in love with you.” Marinette says almost insurgently, an hour and a half into the party. She doesn’t mean to let it slip, really, but Adrien’s eyes are green, so green, so, so green under the rainbow lights, and something small and warm and kind bubbles up inside her before she’s even realized it. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wrenches her gaze from his. Her throat itches.There’s a beat. Then, thankfully, eventually--“Huh?”This is it, this is the day she dies. Here lies Marinette Dupain-Cheng, age 17, who died from a bad case of A Broken Heart and Also Wet Socks. Dearly beloved by all who knew her, except Adrien Agreste, who didn’t. And Chloe, sometimes. Oh, and Lila, all-times. But whatever. Who’s counting.Marinette (finally) confesses to Adrien at the Christmas party, half-drunk off of her newfound valor and the other half from the spiked eggnog.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Kudos: 13





	a small courageous thing

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and, the thing is, I’m in love with you.” Marinette says almost insurgently an hour and a half into the party, half-drunk off of newfound valor and the other half from the spiked eggnog someone had snuck in. She doesn’t mean to let it slip, really, but Adrien’s eyes are green, so green, so, _so_ green under the rainbow lights, and something warm and formidable and certain, a courageous little thing, bubbles up inside her before she’s even realized it. As soon as the words leave her, she snaps her mouth shut and wrenches her gaze from his to focus rather intently on the hem of her dress, hands wringing at the silvery tulle. Her throat itches.  
  
There’s a beat. And another. And another. And two more. Then, thankfully, _eventually--_

“What?” 

“I.” Marinette starts again, but it’s all raspy and embarrassing and pathetic now. She swallows, hard. “Love. Um, y’know. You.”

Adrien says nothing. He says nothing for so long that Marinette thinks she might die of old age in the time she stands there, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet. She doesn’t know where she’d put her flats but standing out there shivering in a pair of those stupid little no-show socks that always slip off your feet when you walk, she suddenly feels overwhelmingly ridiculous. She’s very cold and a little tipsy and she feels like she might have a stroke the way her heart is hammering against her ribcage, her socks uncomfortably moist as they stand on the front stoop of Alya’s apartment building. She prays it’s from sweat-- the moistness, that is. Which, okay, _gross_ , but at the moment that seems like a slightly more favorable alternative than the other option, moist from Unidentified Fluid Substance At Teenage Party XYZ. (Fine, she’ll stop saying the word ‘moist’-- Rose always hates it when she does that). But, listen, the point is that either would be significantly more preferable to this, here, right now. Standing in silence with Adrien after she’s finally(!) revealed her feelings for him. 

“Wow.” Adrien breathes out after an eternity and a half and, if Marinette’s being honest here, she’s quickly gotten real sick of the guy’s newfound penchant for monosyllabic responses.

“Wow?” she echoes. And now she’s gawking at him, lamely, all slack-jawed and sweaty. ( _Why is she sweating so much?! Oh God)._ “‘Wow’? What _‘wow’_ ? What do you mean, _‘wow’_?”

“Just.. wow. You know?”

“No, I don’t know!” she says in a tone one part exasperated and two parts mortified, throwing her arms up emphatically like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Because, oh my God, it is. Adrien Agreste could win the ‘Best At Giving Vague, Unhelpful, And Nerve-wracking Responses to Grand Declarations of Love’ superlative in the yearbook next year with this award-winning performance alone. 

“I-- you know, Marinette. I’m surprised, that’s all.” Adrien flummoxes, in an unfamiliar voice. A slower, softer one. It sounds less... sure. He rubs the back of his neck uneasily. 

“You’re… surprised?” Marinette eeks out. 

“Well, yeah.”

This is it. This is the day she’s going to die. Here lies Marinette Dupain-Cheng, age 17, who died from A Broken Heart and Also Wet Socks. Dearly beloved by all who knew her, except Adrien Agreste, who didn’t. And Chloe, sometimes. Oh, and Lila, all-times. But whatever. Who’s counting.

“You’re. Surprised.” she repeats because apparently, in all of the two minutes and forty nine seconds they’ve been alone together, she’s somehow lost hold of all her mental faculties. Well, at least _that’s_ consistent. In her periphery-- periphery because she’s ten hundred percent sure that if she looks at him full on, her-eyes-to-his, right now, she’ll make a bigger fool of herself than ever before-- Adrien opens his mouth and immediately shuts it. He nods. 

“I--” she starts to say, but someone far away in the havoc upstairs has started blasting “All I Want for Christmas Is You”, the music pounding hazily throughout the building, and Marinette feels a familiar, muffled ache in her chest. She should go. Yeah, she should leave. She wasn’t having that much fun anyway, and the Boy She’s In Love With Probably Doesn’t Like Her Like That, and her socks are wet, and--

“I have to go.” she splutters out because she would rather be anywhere else than be here, doing this. Pitifully trying to dig herself out of the hole she’s dug herself in with her stupid shovel of a tongue. As she moves to go back inside, she sneaks a furtive glance up at a silent Adrien (their third whole second of eye contact all night but, again, who’s counting). His mouth is still open, cheeks a little flushed, his face doing that weird knotted brow thing it does when he’s struggling with a hard math question in class. She ducks her head, cheeks burning, and squeezes past him.

**Author's Note:**

> ah, the self indulgence! 
> 
> keep up with me on my Tumblr @riverballad\-- i'm new to the fandom on there & would love to make some more Miraculous Ladybug stan friends!


End file.
